I am neither awake nor dead,
tied up on this bed.
I cannot feel my head,
they've only given me bread.
I should have known being so well-read,
that my fate had been 'foresaid.
I once fled,
after me he sped.
Since I've been kept in this shed,
feeling sore and unfed.
Nights like these it goes unsaid,
that I'd be better off dead.